Thanksgiving - The Raw and The Cooked

Thanksgiving.
This year, unlike many in the immediate past, I took my family
on the road to see the grandparents. My parents and the parents of my wife
have started down the slope where unnecessary traveling is no long advisable
or even possible; we are all moving towards the end of days.

My parents made dinner; Thanksgiving in our household was the one time of year
when my mother really took time in the kitchen, producing a perfect turkey
with stuffing, sweet potatoes, greens, the whole ninety-nine yards. The rest
of the year we were just as likely to have spaghetti without sauce as anything
- I didn't even learn about spaghetti sauce until college.

This year's dinner was different, however, my mom's spirit was willing, but
the flesh was overwhelmed. My wife now cooks like my mother and it is the
taste of her food that seems right; my mom, who spends most of her waking
hours worrying about my dad's cancer and the cancer of my mother-in-law,
tries her best but can no longer pull it together.
Time is passing and I can taste it.